


When Troubles Cast a Shadow

by piratekelly



Series: New Favorite Day [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Uses His Words, Disney Movies, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/pseuds/piratekelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek finally talk.  About this thing.  That they do.  But not before they save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Troubles Cast a Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from “Tomorrow Is Another Day” from The Rescuers.
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta, Meagan, who beta'd this for me literally over a year ago, left to die on my computer until now.

\--

 

“You know, getting a call from Argent never means anything good, right?”

 

Derek’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Especially when I don’t even know how he got my number?  Yes, I know.”

 

It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday and Stiles’ dad is out of town for the weekend.  Derek and Stiles had just set up the living room for a Disney marathon of their favorites – it’s surprisingly difficult to find some of them, but Stiles won’t give up – when the call from Chris came through. To say they were surprised would be a massive understatement.

 

Things had been chilly between Derek and the Argents since Stiles’ sophomore year, what with the whole Peter killing Kate and then Peter himself getting killed by Derek fiasco, but the relationship had reached Arctic tundra levels of frosty after the alpha pack incident the following summer.  The pack had come out more or less unscathed (mostly because the healing kicked in before the hunters got there) but Chris had lost a few of his friends, and almost lost Allison. After that, Chris barely left the pack enough room to leave the house, never letting them forget that he was just waiting for them to slip, to give him a reason to take them out.

 

It’s now the fall of Stiles’ senior year and things have mostly returned to normal.

 

 

As normal as anything gets for them, anyway.

 

“This is gonna suck,” Stiles groans.

 

Derek just parks the car in front of the Argent’s house and gets out.

 

\--

 

Chris doesn’t let them in a whole lot further than the front door.

 

“Hale,” he nods.

 

“Argent.”

 

And then silence.  Derek and Chris are staring, challenging the other to speak their mind.  Stiles really does not have time for this. They have a Disney marathon to get back to, and they’re wasting so much time just standing here.

 

“Okay, enough with the territorial pissing contest. What do you want, Argent?”

 

Chris doesn’t even blink.  “Why did you bring him, Derek?”

 

“Because he was already with me,” Derek replies, face blank.

 

Chris takes a few steps toward them. “You make a habit of hanging out with humans, Derek?”  Stiles supposes the whole tough guy act is meant to be intimidating, but honestly, Chris’ posturing is outright hilarious. If it wouldn’t get him shot, he’d laugh right in the older man’s face.

 

“Stiles is pack, so yes.”

 

Chris moves so fast that Stiles barely has time to react before Derek is slammed into the wall by the door, Chris’s forearm tucked under Derek’s chin.

 

“You bite him, Hale?”

 

“He doesn’t want it,” Derek growls, eyes flashing red. “I don’t make a habit of biting unwilling people.”

 

Chris holds his gaze for a long minute before nodding to himself, taking a few steps back.

 

“Alright,” Stiles interrupts, clapping his hands. “Let’s get this over with. Being in close proximity with an Argent still makes me a little twitchy.”

 

Chris at least has the good grace to wince; after all, it was Chris’ inability to keep his own father in check that led to Stiles getting the ever loving shit kicked out of him. His regret is fleeting, though, as Chris quickly schools his face into its usual stoic expression. “I need some help.” He forces it out through clenched teeth, as though it physically pains him to admit it.

 

“With what?” Derek asks.

 

“Finding something.”

 

“Wow, you are being delightfully vague,” Stiles snarks.

 

Chris frowns.  “I don’t share information with kids.”

 

“You don’t share information _at all_ ,” he replies.

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Stilinski.”

 

“Bueller.”

 

Derek groans.  “Stiles, you’re not helping.”

 

Stiles grins.  “I know.  Just thought I’d give Mr. Argent here an idea of exactly how annoying being unhelpful is.”

 

“A hunter is missing,” Chris interrupts.

 

“And?”  


“He’s a good friend of mine.  An Omega was in the area about a week ago, had already killed two people by the time he’d managed to track it.” Chris straightens, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  “There haven’t been any more casualties in the area, so I assume he took care of it, but I haven’t heard from him since.”

 

Derek shrugs, as though the idea that he should find this upsetting is completely absurd.  “So?”

 

“So maybe he’s stranded in the woods. Maybe it killed him too. I don’t know, but I’d like to. Would it hurt you to help him and find out if you have another hunter on your side?”

 

This time it’s Stiles.  “Like that’s helped in the past, Argent.”

 

Chris nods, then turns to Derek. “He lives by the Code, Derek.”

 

Derek snorts.  “You can’t honestly believe that means anything to me anymore.”

 

“Just… help me,” Chris groans. Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Please.”

 

Derek remains silent for a few moments before nodding at Stiles.  He looks back at Chris. “Give us a second.”

 

Stiles and Derek walk in to the next room, and Stiles wastes no time laying in to Derek.

 

“You know he’s in there wondering why he asked us to help when clearly his superiority complex has him singing along to the ‘anything you can do, I can do better’ mentality, right?”

 

Derek ignores the way his chest gets tight at Stiles’ use of “us” and instead decides to give Stiles what he’s wanted for the last few weeks.  “You remember the movie from the other night?”

 

Stiles pauses, and after a few seconds proceeds to laugh, unrestrained glee painting his face.  “‘ _Yeah, but two little mice, what could you do?_ ’” Stiles quotes, using his most convincing old man voice. “Oh my God Argent is totally the cat from the orphanage in _The Rescuers_.”

 

Derek laughs.  “You realize you’re Bernard right?”

 

Stiles scoffs, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I am _not_.”

 

“You get stupid around pretty girls and not even your heart of gold can stop you from being so clumsy.  If you could climb up a comb in an attempt to pull a letter from a bottle, you’d fall in too.”  Derek pauses.  “Come to think of it, you fall a lot anyway.”

 

“I…” he starts.  “I don’t know whether to be happy that you paid attention or horrified that you’re able to make that comparison stick.”

 

“Go with both and call it a day.” The laughter dies down as the seriousness of the moment settles around them.  Derek has a decision to make, they both know it, but Stiles has a feeling he’ll pull a Sully if pushed in the right direction.

 

Stiles sighs.  “I hate it, but we have to do this.”

 

Derek groans, one hand resting on his hip, the other combing through his hair.  “I really don’t want to.”

 

“But--”

 

“Stiles, you know why I don’t want to do this.”

 

“I know.”  But Stiles is still giving him those puppy eyes, the ones he pulls on Derek when he’s looking for an adventure and he knows Derek can’t resist.

 

“Stiles, we’re not the Rescue Aid Society.”

 

“I know, Derek,” Stiles rests a hand on Derek’s arm, thumb rubbing back and forth over the skin of his elbow. “But when did we start ignoring a cry for help?”

 

“When the person doing the crying has been trying to kill me for the last two years?”

 

Stiles nods; he can’t really argue with that one. “Fair point.”

 

“You’re right,” Derek relents. “We have to do this. If it means the Argents tell hunters that come through to leave us alone, we have to.”  Stiles smiles.  “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Stiles says.  “I just didn’t think you’d ever _really_ settle in to being Alpha, that’s all.”

 

Derek nods, face blank.  He didn’t think he ever would either.  Everyone knows he was never meant to lead a pack, and an Alpha’s power isn’t something you can just _assume_ and comfortably live with right out of the gate. He supposes, though he’ll never admit it, that Stiles has helped with that in more ways than he knows.

 

“Yeah, well,” Derek coughs, scratching the back of his neck.  “This Alpha has to go make a decision that’ll probably bite him in the ass later.”

 

Stiles laughs.  “Oh, but what a great–”

 

Derek stares.

 

“Uh,” Stiles squeaks.  “Maybe I should stop talking out loud.”

 

“Please,” Derek groans.  As Stiles turns away, Derek grabs him by the elbow and turns him around.  “Stiles. About… about this… _thing_.”

 

He scoffs.  “Oh, so we’re acknowledging this now?”

 

“We do not have time to argue about this, Stiles. Just… Later, okay? We’ll talk about it later.”

 

“Fine.  Sure. Let’s go save the world,” Stiles waves a hand at Derek, dismissing him.    Derek takes it for what it is, not pushing Stiles any further. If there’s anything he’s learned while doing whatever this is with him, it’s that Stiles will only talk when he wants to.  Derek walks past Stiles and makes his way back to the front door.

 

“ _R-E-S-C-U-E / Rescue aid societyyyy_ …”

 

Derek laughs and almost trips over a rug. It’s a close call.

 

\--

 

They agree, under no uncertain terms, that Chris will back off enough to give the pack some breathing room if Derek and Stiles help him find the missing hunter (whose name, Derek has learned, is Owen). The three of them jump in their cars – Chris in his SUV and Derek and Stiles in the Camaro – and drive two towns over, stopping on the outskirts to then hike down what Stiles would call “a really fucking sketchy path why are we doing this again?” Chris points them to where he’d stopped looking the day before and Derek tells Stiles to hang back. Though Derek doesn’t smell another wolf in the area, that doesn’t mean it hasn’t found a way to mask its scent.

 

“But -” Derek flashes his eyes and Stiles raises his hands.  “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”

 

And Derek takes off.

 

He walks for about ten minutes, long enough to know that Chris won’t see him shift.  He feels the familiar tingle in his spine as he pulls his wolf to the surface, the shifting of bones under his skin, his senses heightened even more in his beta form. He catches wind of something almost instantly, but it’s too far away to tell exactly what the source is, so he follows it.

 

As he runs, the forest around him a blur of oranges and yellows and reds, he thinks.  He wishes Stiles were running with him – Derek doesn’t trust Argent at all, probably never will, and he’d feel more comfortable if Stiles were here instead of back with the hunter where Derek can’t protect him.  But Stiles can’t run like this, because he’s not a wolf. As much as Derek Hale the werewolf wants Stiles to take the bite, Derek Hale the human just wants Stiles safe.

 

Derek doesn’t doubt Stiles’ ability when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.  His argument that Stiles couldn’t always rely on mountain ash and snark to save him in sticky situations is what finally convinced Stiles to train with the pack. Also, Stiles hadn’t responded well when Derek told him he either had to learn to defend himself or sacrifice his place in the pack.  There had been a lot of yelling, all of it on Stiles’ part, before Derek told him he wouldn’t watch somebody else die because of him, and since Stiles didn’t want the bite, self-defense or packing his bags were his only options.  That was nearly a year ago, and Stiles can hold his own against the betas now, at least well enough that he can keep himself alive before another member of the pack can help him out.

 

So if Derek returned to find Stiles had beaten the holy hell out of Chris, he wouldn’t really feel bad. 

 

After another half hour of running, he stops. The smell, one that has, unfortunately, become familiar to him in recent years, surrounded him, overwhelming his senses.  He took a few steps to the right, where it seemed to be getting stronger, and groaned.  The body was bloated, covered in blood, and long dead.  As Derek stepped closer he noticed the claw marks across the victim’s belly; the hunter may have taken the omega out, but not before it got a few good swipes in. They were deep in the woods, and it got cold enough at night to make things difficult when you were fully prepared, let alone slowly bleeding out. If exhanguination hadn’t killed the guy, then exposure coupled with the wounds definitely did. What bothered Derek the most, however, was the idea of bringing a long-dead body back to Chris. He was willing to do a lot of things for his pack and their protection, but he was going to have to seriously establish some boundaries after this little project.

 

Before he could think to call Stiles, he heard a whimper coming from a nearby rock formation.  If he hadn’t known these woods so well, he wouldn’t have noticed the space between two rocks that was just large enough to fit a small human. It was enough for a temporary hiding place, at least, so he called out, assuming that he probably shouldn’t just approach whoever happened to be in there. If they were running from something, he thought, the least he could do was not exacerbate that fear.

 

“Hello?”  A sniffle.  “Is somebody there?”

 

“Y-yes.”  Female, and by the looks of her she was probably around Stiles’ age. Her voice cracked, throat dry from lack of use and dehydration, if he had to guess.  Derek took a few steps to his right and got a better look at her, dark air plastered to her face, pink shirt and jeans streaked with dirt. She looked terrified, so Derek relaxed his stance.

 

“Hi.  What’s your name?”  _Speak softly and no sudden movements_ , he could hear Stiles say.

 

She looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Mazie.”

 

“Mazie?  I’m Derek.  Can I come closer?” She hesitated, but eventually nodded, and he slowly stepped over, hands in plain sight, and knelt down next to her. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “Good.  Can you tell me what happened?”

 

She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself, and looked away.  “You’d never believe me.”

 

“You might be surprised.”

 

Mazie looks at him for a second, doubtful, but she must find something in Derek that indicates he can be trusted, because she starts talking.  Her boyfriend Jake, who Derek learns was the omega Owen was after, had brought her there for a romantic moonlit walk through the woods two nights ago.  She knew that he was a werewolf, she admits, and that he hadn’t hurt anyone, but he was so tired of constantly being on the run. Omegas who haven’t spilled blood aren’t always given a free pass, after all.  They ran into Owen not far from where they were standing now, and Jake, sensing no way out of the situation, admitted to the crimes and said he’d willingly let Owen take him away if he promised not to hurt Mazie.

 

Owen seemed unsure, had said that he would rather test her to see if she responded negatively, and that’s when attacked.

 

When he’d first told her about his werewolf status he’d told her about the few ways he could be killed.  Mazie had done enough research to know that wolfsbane was fatal if you didn’t have any of the same strain to burn and rub into the wound, and aconite poisoning was just as lethal for humans.  She knew what plans Owen had for her, knew she couldn’t chance anything, so when Jake told her to, she ran.  She stayed long enough to see him shift, and when she came back a few hours later, the sun had risen and Jake was dead, Owen nearly there as well. She buried Jake as best she could, in a place she’d remember easily so she could visit him, and by the time she got back Owen was dead too.  That had been this morning. 

 

“Okay, Mazie, I have to ask.  Did he bite you?”  She shook her head.  “Good. It wouldn’t have turned you, but the side effects would have sucked.”

 

“So I’m not…”

 

“No,” Derek shakes his head.  “You’re not.”

 

She nods, relieved.  “Can you get me the hell out of here now?”

  
Derek snorts.  “Yeah.” He extends a hand and she takes it, pulling herself up, only to stumble into Derek’s chest with a hiss.

 

“Sorry, sorry.  Twisted my ankle when I ran off.”

 

He pauses for a second before turning around and crouching slightly, pointing to her foot.  “Can I?”  She nods, and Derek kneels down, taking stock of the injury.  He can’t smell any blood pooling under the surface, so it’s not bruised, and there are no broken bones.  Assured that it’s a sprain at the most, he grips her ankle tighter, hears her hiss as the pain increases under the pressure and quickly disappears.  “This won’t heal you, but it’ll make walking less painful until you can get to a doctor.”

 

“That,” she gasps, “was _awesome_.”

 

Derek’s mouth turns up at the sides. “Well, it won’t last forever. Get moving.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir,” she mocks.

 

This girl reminds him of Stiles. Just a little bit.

 

Derek may or may not be horrified by the thought.

 

\--

 

After a nice, hour long chat about all the things Mazie felt she really needed to know about werewolves, he passes her off to Chris with his phone number should she run into any other omegas, and strict instructions for Chris to call in the dead body and leave them the fuck out of it. With a passing nod at Mazie, Derek hauls a very confused Stiles back to the Camaro and speeds away.

 

\--

 

That night, after they’ve watched four of their favorite movies and moved up to Stiles’ room, Derek decides it’s time to continue the argument Stiles had tried to start at the Argents.

 

“Stiles,” he starts, sitting on the bed. “About earlier…”

 

“What about it?”  Stiles asks, walking around, picking up an already clean room. “What happened earlier? All I remember is us saving lives, tag-team style.  And by that, I mean that you saved Mazie and I made sure Chris didn’t try to kill you.”

 

“Which I appreciate, but that isn’t what I was talking about.” Stiles continues to busy himself, babbling, refusing to make eye contact.  “Stiles.”

 

“Right.  Shutting up.”  After an awkward silence – Derek notes that there haven’t been many of those lately, politely forgetting the time he caught Stiles crying during _Bambi_ , and it’s making Derek uncomfortable – Stiles wipes his hands on his thighs.

 

“You wanna talk?  Let’s talk.”

 

“I’m not purposely ignoring whatever it is we do.”

 

Stiles gapes.  For a long time.

 

“What?”

 

“Um.  Uh,” Stiles clears his throat, nervously shifting from side to side. “I just didn’t think you’d be so forthcoming.  Normally I have to annoy the truth out of you.”

 

Derek snorts.  “I’m not that guy anymore, Stiles.”

 

“I know,” he whispers.  “I just… I sort of feel like your dirty little secret sometimes.”

 

Derek really hates that, hates being the person to make Stiles feel bad.  Even more, he hates being the person who, apparently, is embarrassed even acknowledging that they talk, much less admit to hanging out.  It seems that Derek’s refusal to quote the movies with Stiles in order to spite him lead Stiles to believe that Derek refused to acknowledge they were friends.  Or something.

  
Derek might not be completely in touch with his feelings yet, but that idea sucks. Stiles has been there for him since the first time they’d had to deal with Peter, has refused, on multiple occasions, to sell Derek and the pack out to hunters.  How Stiles could even think that Derek wouldn’t want him around is just… _stupid._

“Stiles, I didn’t want anyone to know because this is sort of … _our_ thing.” Stiles scoffs. “Seriously.  The pack is really the only family I have anymore, and they frustrate me to no end.  They don’t pay attention, they have serious problems with authority, and never remember anything unless I’ve repeated it to them at least five times.  I come here so I can _breathe_ for a second.  You know everything there is to know about my kind, so I don’t have to answer variations of the same question, and you never force me to talk when I don’t want to, and I can relax here, okay?  You’re…” Derek huffs.

 

“I’m what?”  Stiles asks, hesitant.

 

Derek looks down, scratching the back of his head. “You’re sort of my best friend,” he grumbles.

 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” He doesn’t need to look up to know Stiles is sporting a shit-eating grin.

 

But because he wants to avoid having this conversation again, and he needs Stiles to understand this, Derek looks him dead in the eye and says, “You’re my best friend.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles says.

 

“Okay?  That’s it?”

 

Stiles nods.  “Okay.”  He pauses, looking around his room before his eyes settle on the bed.  “Wanna watch _The Little Mermaid_? You know, since I’m part of your world and all that?”

 

Derek laughs and moves over to make room for Stiles, shifting the laptop around so that it’s facing them. He’ll voluntarily take the spot by the wall this time, but only because Stiles didn’t push for more when he could see Derek was already struggling to communicate his emotions in what little ways he could. Stiles has been good for him, and he likes to think he’s been good for Stiles, so tonight, Derek decides, it’s all about indulging him. Tomorrow Derek can get back to brow-beating him into watching something else.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Stiles grins and starts the movie.


End file.
